The life
I swear I've forgotten how to livejournal.
Productive couple of days. We had the weekend marked out for projects, which yesterday meant a lot of writing (me: BrikWars stuff, sistersolace: grad school presentations), and today meant Home Depot.
We bought a cool old gypsy chest from the neighbors a month or two back, and have been making plans for how to refinish it for the kids. So that was the tentative goal for today, but of course there are always lots of little home projects to do, so we bought all the initial-steps supplies for the chest project and then spent the day on the other projects instead: prying out and replacing some cracked boards in the bedframe and taking wood stain and polyurethane to kid-related chips and scratches in the hardwood furniture.
For dinner: homemade lasagna and salad with all the croutons and dried cranberries; for dessert, little bowls of ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream and cherries. (The chocolate sauce is a matter of contention since we found out Hershey's uses child slavery, but we already had the bottle and I figure we might as well use it up.) Now that the kids are asleep, we're back in the reassembled bed with a funny Oregon merlot and fancy crackers and cheeses (port, merlot, and smoked gouda), typing away on our laptops.
I had a funny feeling for a minute or two today where I felt sorry for anybody who doesn't get to live like this. But not in the usual way, which for us is normally based on impossibly surviving another one of our ridiculous adventures, but just because of the accumulation of all these tiny unremarkable luxuries we're constantly granting ourselves.
Productive couple of days. We had the weekend marked out for projects, which yesterday meant a lot of writing (me: BrikWars stuff, sistersolace: grad school presentations), and today meant Home Depot.
We bought a cool old gypsy chest from the neighbors a month or two back, and have been making plans for how to refinish it for the kids. So that was the tentative goal for today, but of course there are always lots of little home projects to do, so we bought all the initial-steps supplies for the chest project and then spent the day on the other projects instead: prying out and replacing some cracked boards in the bedframe and taking wood stain and polyurethane to kid-related chips and scratches in the hardwood furniture.
For dinner: homemade lasagna and salad with all the croutons and dried cranberries; for dessert, little bowls of ice cream with chocolate sauce and whipped cream and cherries. (The chocolate sauce is a matter of contention since we found out Hershey's uses child slavery, but we already had the bottle and I figure we might as well use it up.) Now that the kids are asleep, we're back in the reassembled bed with a funny Oregon merlot and fancy crackers and cheeses (port, merlot, and smoked gouda), typing away on our laptops.
I had a funny feeling for a minute or two today where I felt sorry for anybody who doesn't get to live like this. But not in the usual way, which for us is normally based on impossibly surviving another one of our ridiculous adventures, but just because of the accumulation of all these tiny unremarkable luxuries we're constantly granting ourselves.